No; I never could stand it, so long as I had it in
my power to assist him."

"And what's wrong now, if it's a fair question?"

"Two or three things; none of them very large, but amounting in all to
about fifty guineas."

"Whew!--fifty guineas!"

"Ay, indeed; fifty guineas, which you will lend me on my own security."

"Fifty guineas to you? Don't I know you? Why, if you had a thousand, let
alone fifty, it's among the poor o' the parish they'd be afore a week.
Faith, I know you too well Father Peter."

"You know me, man alive--yes, you do know me; and it is just because you
do that I expect you will lend me the money. You wouldn't wish to see my
little things pulled about and auctioned; my laughy little library gone;
nor would you wish to see me and poor Freney the Robber separated. Big
Ruly desaved me, the thief; but I found him out at last. Money I know is
a great temptation, and so is mate when trusted to a shark like him; but
any way, may the Lord pardon the blackguard! and that's the worst I wish
him."

There are some situations in life where conscience is more awakened by
comparison, or perhaps we should say by the force of contrast, than
by all the power of reason, religion, or philosophy, put together, and
advancing against it in their proudest pomp and formality. The childlike
simplicity, for instance, of this good and benevolent man, earnest and
eccentric as it was, occasioned reflections more painful and touching
to the callous but timid heart of this old manoeuvrer than could whole
homilies, or the most serious and lengthened exhortations.

"I am near death," thought he, as he looked upon the countenance of the
priest, from which there now beamed an emanation of regret, not for his
difficulties, for he had forgotten them, but for his knavish servant--so
simple, so natural, so affecting, so benevolent, that Corbet was deeply
struck by them. "I am near death," he proceeded, "and what would I not
give to have within me a heart so pure and free from villany as that
man. He has made me feel more by thinkin' of what goodness and piety
can do, than I ever felt in my life; and now if he gets upon Freney the
Robber, or lugs in that giant Ruly, he'll forget debts, difficulties,
and all for the time. Heavenly Father, that I had as happy a heart this
day, and as free from sin!"

"Anthony," said the priest, "I must tell you about Freney--"

"No, sir, if you plaise," replied the other, "not now."

"Well, about